


kitten in a box

by punkbean



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: Gen, i have seen one too many people calling joxter a bad dad, i just want 2 prove that if had the chance to BE a dad he would be the BEST dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-03-08 20:11:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18901804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkbean/pseuds/punkbean
Summary: They say Snufkin was found in a box as a child. What if he'd been found by someone distinctly cat-like and very similar to him?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> snufkin starts out at about 2 years of age! he's more capable than a human 2-year old, but he's still a babie.

"Mamma, Snufkin bit me again!" 

Snufkin glowered. 

He loved his family, mostly. They were fun, and his Mamma was nice to him, but they could really get to be too much. 

They always seemed happy to spend all day together, making a ruckus and running around, laughing loudly and shrieking and climbing all over each other. Snufkin, however, much preferred to be left on his own, or at least in the quiet. His siblings didn't understand this, and tried to make him join in with their games. This left him with no option – if they weren't going to listen when he told them to stop, he would bite. 

Luckily, his Mamma never told him off too harshly for it – she usually kissed the bite better, and encouraged the bitten child to go and play with the others. She wasn't the best at controlling the children, but who would be? They were a force to be reckoned with, and Mamma did what she could. It was clear that she loved them, at least – especially when she shot Snufkin a conspiratorial little wink when the rest of the children had left him alone. 

He beamed at her, and continued on his solo exploration of the forest. He didn't usually dare to stray too far from his Mamma, but he was intrigued by a particularly brightly-coloured bird overhead. He waddled through the trees, his tail swishing this way and that with interest. Soon enough, though, the bird fluttered out of sight, and Snufkin was left alone. 

He hadn't realised how far he'd wandered until he was left with no distractions. He could hear the distant sound of his siblings playing, and that made him feel better. For now, he contented himself with investigating the nearby plants and trees – he could go back to the others when it was time to leave. 

That would have been a perfect plan on a normal day. But today was abnormal to say the least. 

Snufkin hadn't noticed that when his brightly-coloured bird had flown away, all the other birds had flown with it. They had seen something he hadn't. 

The flood. 

It had started with a trickle. The river was a bit higher than usual, and it continued to rise. The other animals in the forest had begun to flee, and usually they would have stopped to tell the little boy to get a move on, but nobody had time. They all had their own families to keep track of. 

When the water first reached Snufkin, he thought it was funny. He liked paddling in the river, and this was just like paddling, but with grass beneath his feet! But then the water kept rising. 

"Mamma!" Snufkin called, but there was no reply. He couldn't hear his siblings anymore. The usual sounds of the forest were gone, too – no squawking birds, no squeaking animals, no rustling leaves. Only the sound of fast-flowing water and creaking trees. 

Snufkin tried to retrace his steps to get back to his family, but the water was getting too deep for him to walk, and he couldn't swim well. When his feet wouldn't touch the ground anymore, he ended up being carried in a rush of water through an unfamiliar part of the forest. He desperately wished he was with his Mamma – she was so big, he doubted the water would even move her. She would wrap them all up in a hug and keep them safe and dry and warm. 

Mamma wasn't here, though, and Snufkin just had to try his best to stay afloat. He grabbed onto a tree as he floated past, trying to catch his breath. Swimming came to him instinctively, but it certainly wasn't easy – his chin kept slipping underwater and he had to try his best not to swallow any water. As he clung to the tree, though, he saw a basket float past. There was nothing inside, so he made a dive for it. 

He got soaked in the process, and he almost lost his grip a couple of times, but he soon managed to wiggle his way inside. It still floated with him inside, thank goodness, and he poked his head over the edge to watch the world go by. 

Even though he was scared, it was interesting to watch the forest like this. Everything was rushing past as if he were flying, and it was so peaceful. More peaceful than it had ever been at home. He didn't know what he would do now, though. He had no idea where he was, and he was travelling quite fast. At this rate, he'd be out of the forest before too long. 

He had never been out of the forest before. 

When he started to feel queasy, he ducked his head down and curled up in the basket, his eyes squeezed shut. Maybe if he was really lucky, the water would go down and he would end up outside his house. His Mamma would find him, and take him in, and everything would be fine.

He tried to pretend he wasn't in such a predicament, but it was pretty hard to forget. 

 

* * *

 

 The Joxter didn't like water at the best of times.

He especially didn't like it when it was all up in his home. 

The fact that he didn't have a fixed home wasn't important. Home was wherever he happened to be, and where he was right now was certainly flooded. He was high up in a tree, watching detritus float past. There wasn't even anything interesting, or anything he could eat. 

He sighed heavily. Hopefully the whole thing would blow over soon, and he could get back to his normal life. 

Coming back to this forest had been a mistake, and he should have known it. Sentimentality had dragged him back here. He had fond memories of living in this part of the world, but he'd messed it all up. The Mymble wouldn't want to see him. Not after he'd left in the middle of the night with nothing more than a note to say he needed some space. 

It had been a stupid thing to do, and now he was paying for it. 

Nonetheless, he was well-equipped for this situation. He was used to navigating his way through treetops, so he did just that, leaping between branches as he tried to figure out whether the water was getting shallower or deeper. He was staring down at the water when, finally, something interesting floated past. 

It was a basket. 

The basket wasn't the interesting thing, though – the contents were what drew the Joxter's eye. A little boy, curled up tight. He had brown hair, and a tail to match. He was wearing a green shirt, and some soft-looking brown trousers, which both looked soggy. 

Poor thing. Must have been separated from his family. The Joxter wasn't particularly good with children, but he had lived with the Mymble for a good long while – he could at least keep this one alive until he found where it was supposed to go.

He had thought the child was asleep, but as the Joxter watched, he sat up and peered over the edge of the basket. He looked around to try and get his bearings, then looked around a bit more frantically. Obviously lost. In his panic, though, he lost his balance. The little boy fell into the water with a yelp. 

Now, the Joxter was no expert, but this boy didn't look like he was used to the water. He climbed down as fast as he possibly could, and took a few necessary risks to get as close to the splashing child as quickly as he could – the branches were more fragile when they were wet, not to mention how slippery they were. Even if the Joxter fell in the water, though, it would just be an inconvenience. As long as he saved the child. 

It turned out that he didn't need to make much effort. As soon as he was within reach, the little boy managed to grab his arm, sharp little claws digging into his sleeve. 

Poor little thing. He looked terrified. 

Joxter pulled him out of the water, and tucked him easily under one arm. He didn't seem like he had plans to let go of his sleeve, but that was fine with the Joxter – that just meant that he was less likely to drop him as he climbed.

Soon they were high in the trees again, and they could almost pretend there was no flood. It was still uncomfortably quiet – only water was still audible beneath them, but at least it was hidden beneath a canopy of leaves. The little boy wasn't clinging to his sleeve anymore – now his sharp little claws were digging into Joxter's chest, his head tucked against his shoulder and his tail wrapped around his arm. 

"It's okay now," Joxter said as gently as he could. The Mymble's children had been fearless to say the least, so this wasn't a child situation he was familiar with. "You're safe. I'm going to look after you, okay?" 

The little boy didn't say anything. He just looked up at Joxter with big brown eyes, seemingly unwilling to move even an inch. 

Joxter rubbed his back slowly. He didn't mind him clinging – his coat was thick, it wasn't like he was going to break skin. He just didn't like seeing the boy so afraid. "Do you have a name?" he asked. Perhaps distraction would be the best tactic. "I'm Joxter!" he said, grinning down at him. 

"Snufkin," the little boy mumbled. He had turned his brown eyes up to the Joxter's face, and he regarded him analytically. His gaze flitted from his eyes to his hat to his nose to his hair and back to his eyes again. "Where are we?" 

Joxter looked around. He was vaguely familiar with the area, but nonetheless…"I'm not sure. I just wanted to stay out of the water," he said, poking lightly at Snufkin's soggy clothes. "I can look after you, if you want. I'll make sure you're okay until we find where you belong." 

Snufkin nodded eagerly. He extracted his claws from the Joxter's coat, and instead he snuggled closer, tucking his head up beneath his chin. He was chilly from being in wet clothes for so long, so the Joxter took off his scarf and wrapped it around Snufkin. 

He had always thought the Mymble's children were fun, but in a detached kind of way. He had helped to take care of them, but they were really quite self-sufficient. When little Snufkin curled up against him like that, though, he felt a strange little pang in his chest, and he knew he wouldn't let this little boy suffer even a scratch if he could help it. 

"First of all, little Snufkin, why don't we go and see if we can find somewhere dry?" he suggested, smoothing Snufkin's wet hair back from his forehead. "We can find you some dry clothes, and we can get something to eat. Does that sound okay?" 

Snufkin nodded, pulling Joxter's scarf more tightly around himself. He looked a bit more cosy now, but Joxter wouldn't be happy until he had a full belly and proper clothes. 

This paternal instinct was unfamiliar, and a bit alarming, but he was sure anyone would do the same thing if they were faced with a boy like little Snufkin. 

Rather than overthink it, he held Snufkin carefully in one arm, and started making his way through the trees in search of drier land. 


	2. Chapter 2

The Joxter had never particularly wanted children. 

It wasn’t that he disliked them, exactly – children were just fine. But the thing with children was that they tended to tie one down, and the last thing the Joxter wanted was to be stuck in one place for the rest of his life, or even until the child was old enough to strike out on its own. 

Snufkin, however, seemed thrilled with the wandering lifestyle. 

They hadn’t been anywhere exciting. As promised, Joxter had got them to dry land, and they’d found some dry clothes for Snufkin, as well as some food. Since then, though, they had just skirted the edge of the floodwater, looking at the extent of the damage. 

Despite being a tiny wee thing, Snufkin was perfectly content to waddle along on his own, stopping every once in a while to investigate a colourful plant or insect.  In the evenings, when he got tired, the Joxter would hoist him up and carry him until they went to sleep. He was light, so it wasn’t much of an issue, and Snufkin sometimes climbed up to perch on his shoulder like a little parrot. 

The real fun came one day when the flood had all but receded. They had walked a good way into the forest, which felt all the more lush and green after such a thorough watering. With every turn, Snufkin was becoming more and more familiar with their surroundings, and he dashed back and forth across the path to point out things he liked. 

The Joxter was happy to walk behind him, making sure he kept out of trouble but paying attention to all the things he pointed out. The forest was almost totally quiet apart from their footsteps and Snufkin's voice, so the Joxter decided it was one of those days. 

It definitely seemed like the kind of trip that deserved some music. 

In one of the inner pockets of his coat, Joxter had the two halves of his flute. It had originally belonged to some great aunt, and he didn’t play it often, but he thought Snufkin might enjoy it. 

He fitted the two pieces together and started playing a silly tune he remembered his own mamma singing when he had been little, and Snufkin stopped straight away, whirling around to face the Joxter. 

“What’s that?” he asked, eyes wide. He skittered over, jumping up to try and touch the instrument when Joxter lowered it. 

“It’s a flute,” Joxter said, crouching down to let Snufkin investigate it to his heart’s content, his little tail swishing this way and that as he poked at the various valves and holes. “You want a go?” 

“Please,” Snufkin said eagerly. 

He took the flute carefully, with the Joxter supporting the other end – it was just about as long as Snufkin, after all. He took in a long, deep breath and blew with all his might into the mouthpiece, producing a horrible shrieking noise. 

Snufkin recoiled from the instrument, the most affronted expression on his little face. 

Joxter had really tried not to laugh, but he snorted and reached over to ruffle Snufkin’s hair. “It takes a bit of practice,” he assured him. “Do you want another go?” 

Snufkin shook his head. “You play it,” he commanded, and only remembered his manners a moment later, “please.” 

What a well brought-up child. The Joxter straightened up and raised the flute to his mouth, but before he started to play, he felt a little tug on the hem of his coat. 

“Can I come up?” Snufkin asked, gazing up at him hopefully. 

Joxter responded by reaching down, and by this point he didn’t need to bother lifting Snufkin. The little boy climbed easily up his coat and draped himself over the Joxter’s shoulder. 

When he was secure, Joxter set off walking again, playing the same song as before. He could feel Snufkin’s tail swishing against his neck in time with the song, and unless he was mistaken, he was purring softly. 

They were well on their way through the forest, and before long they’d get to Snufkin’s home, but the Joxter found himself with a horrible twist in his stomach as they walked. Forebodings. He would try his best not to let Snufkin notice, but he also remained extra alert.

If anything were to delay them, well, it would just give him time to teach Snufkin the words to the song. 

 

* * *

 

They were nearly home.  Things looked different, but Snufkin now knew exactly where they were. 

It had only been a few days, but he knew he would miss the Joxter. He missed his Mamma right now, but when he was back home, he was certain he would spend a lot of time thinking about the peace and quiet they'd had on this trip.

The Joxter was almost as quiet as Snufkin – perhaps even quieter. He didn’t try to force conversation, and when they did talk, it was obvious that all his attention was focussed on Snufkin. At home, his Mamma always listened to him and paid him attention, but she had lots of other children to take care of and pay attention to. 

Plus, Snufkin loved to see new places. It was just the outside of the forest, but the stories that the Joxter told only made him want to explore more. 

It would be nice to get home, anyway. 

He was still draped over the Joxter’s shoulder, listening to him play his flute. When they went around the next corner, the house would be right there!

Snufkin tried his best to bite back a smile, but it didn't really work. He was excited to introduce the Joxter to his Mamma, and then they could be friends, and the Joxter could come over and visit whenever he wanted! Maybe they could even go for more trips like this, without the flood! 

The forest had been quiet all the way, but now it felt especially quiet. The only sounds were that of the Joxter’s footsteps in the wet forest floor, and the flute. 

Usually by now, Snufkin would be able to hear the screaming and laughter of his siblings, or he would be able to smell whatever his Mamma was making for dinner. Now, though, it was almost eerily quiet. He didn't know if it was the lack of noise, but he felt a twist of nervousness. He couldn't focus on the flute anymore, but he was glad to still be snuggled so close to the Joxter. 

The Joxter stopped playing his flute, and turned his head just enough to look at Snufkin out the corner of his eye. “Are you okay?” 

Snufkin scrunched up his nose and reached up to brush a dead leaf from Joxter’s hat. “Nervous.” 

“We’re nearby now, aren’t we?” the Joxter asked, gently jostling Snufkin on his shoulder in an attempt to make him laugh. 

Snufkin nodded, a tiny laugh escaping him when he was jostled. As soon as they rounded the corner beside this big rock, the house would be in view. His Mamma would rush outside and welcome him home with a big cuddle, and everything would go back to normal. 

When they rounded the corner, however, there was no house.

There were planks of wood and roof tiles and pipes scattered around, and some furniture. It was all achingly familiar to Snufkin. 

He stared for a few moments, then jumped down from the Joxter's shoulder. The landing was jarring, but he didn’t care – he ran to where the house should have been, trying his best to dig through what was there. Maybe it was just some kind of joke! Maybe the others were hiding under this stuff and they would jump out to surprise him. There wasn't much to search through, though – most of the house had obviously been carried away with the flood. 

And nobody was here. 

And Snufkin didn’t know what to do.

 

* * *

 

The Joxter’s forebodings hadn’t gone away. 

He had been ignoring them as well as he could, but now they had come to fruition. 

This was obviously where Snufkin’s house had been, and there was nothing but rubble and furniture scattered throughout the clearing. 

The Joxter wasn’t entirely sure what to do, so he hung back, keeping an eye on Snufkin. He had stopped purring when they had neared the house, and the Joxter couldn’t help wondering if they had had the same forebodings. They seemed to be of fairly similar species, so it wasn’t out of the question. 

His forebodings had gone now that he’d seen the house, but when Snufkin turned around, the Joxter felt more panicked than any forebodings could ever make him. 

Snufkin was crying. 

His breath kept hitching in his throat, and he looked like his little heart was breaking. 

The Joxter wasn’t usually good with this kind of thing, but he couldn’t just stand there. Before he could really think about it he was beside Snufkin, kneeling down and wrapping him up in a tight hug. Snufkin sobbed into the Joxter’s neck, his little paws tangled up in his scarf.

They stayed like that for a little while. The Joxter didn’t know what to say, so he just let Snufkin get it out of his system. They could talk when he wasn’t crying quite so much. It was really quite startling – Snufkin had been so composed in the few days they’d spent together. Even when Joxter had pulled him out of the river, he had pretty much taken everything in his stride. This was new and unfamiliar territory. 

When his crying had petered off a bit, Snufkin didn’t pull away from the Joxter. “What do we do now?” he asked, his voice small and shaky. 

“We keep looking,” said the Joxter, running his fingers through Snufkin’s fine hair. “We’ll find your family. I promise.” 

He didn’t have any more forebodings, so he was almost certain it was a promise he would be able to keep. He wasn’t sure he would be able to cope if he actually made Snufkin cry like that.

 

* * *

 

Snufkin was quiet for the rest of the day. 

To try and cheer him up, the Joxter had given him a piggyback ride, and let him wear his hat. He played a few songs on his flute as they walked along, and by the time the sun was setting, there was a little smile on Snufkin’s face again.

The sky was painted in pinks and oranges by the time they stopped walking. The Joxter sat on a riverbank and set about catching some fish for them to eat. He didn’t care if _he_ ate nothing but berries for three nights in a row, but it probably wasn’t a very nutritional diet for a growing boy. 

Was this what fathers thought about? 

Snufkin watched with fascination as Joxter caught fish for them. He had taken his shoes off and stood in the shallows, looming over the water to attract fish into his shadow. He struck quickly, and before long they had a few good fish to share. 

“Can you teach me how to do that, please?” Snufkin asked, crouched at the side of the river. 

The Joxter climbed out of the water, the hems of his trousers dripping. “I’ll teach you one day. I promise,” he told him. “Now. Are you alright with eating them whole, or would you like to fillet them first?” 

“Whole!” Snufkin said enthusiastically. 

The little boy threw himself into helping with the fire, and cooking the skewered fish until they were crispy on the outside and flaky in the middle. 

The Joxter had to admit, it was satisfying to have had a hot meal. Snufkin seemed happy, too, nibbling every last bit of fish from his skewer. It was still light outside, and while Snufkin watched the changing colours in the sky, the Joxter set about picking some flowers. 

He weaved them carefully into a wreath. He kept glancing between the flower crown and Snufkin, trying his best to gauge the size of his head. Thankfully, it didn’t take long to make such a small circle, and as soon as it was done he draped it over Snufkin’s head. 

It was a bit too big, and nearly slipped down over Snufkin’s eyes, but when he leaned over and saw his reflection in the river he gasped. “How did you do that?”  

“You like it?” the Joxter asked, smiling at the sight of him with the flowers perched on his head. 

Snufkin nodded eagerly, and the Joxter spent a while teaching him how to weave the flowers together securely. Soon enough they had a good pile of flower crowns between them. They varied in quality and size: some were probably big enough to go around the Joxter’s waist, and some small enough to go around Snufkin’s little head, but they were all nice. 

Snufkin piled some of them onto the Joxter’s hat, and when he was done, he sat back with a smile. “Now you look pretty!” 

The Joxter pressed a hand to his heart, looking at Snufkin with wide eyes and the most hurt expression he could muster. “You’re saying I wasn’t already pretty?”

Snufkin laughed brightly, which was a relief to hear. “No! You were pretty. Now you’re more pretty,” he giggled, tucking himself up against the Joxter’s side and grinning up at him. “Thank you for dinner. And everything.” 

The Joxter draped an arm around him, smiling to himself. “You don’t need to thank me, you helped,” he assured him. “You’ve got wonderful manners, Snufkin. Your Mamma must raise you well.” 

Snufkin didn’t say anything. When the Joxter looked down he was still smiling, but now it was more wistful. 

“We’ll find her,” he said firmly, ruffling Snufkin’s hair. “Have you got any siblings?” Maybe it would help to talk about his family. It would give the Joxter a better idea of what they were looking for, and reminiscing might cheer Snufkin up. 

The question made Snufkin laugh. “Nobody’s ever asked me that before,” he said. “I have a lot of siblings and they’re hard to miss. I’ve never been away from them.”

The Joxter hummed, happy to sit and listen to Snufkin talk. “How many?” he asked. Whatever Snufkin classed as ‘a lot’, he doubted it was as many children as the Mymble had. 

He really needed to stop thinking about her. 

Snufkin considered for a moment before answering. “I’m the youngest of thirty four!”

Joxter was fairly sure his brain short circuited. “Th…thirty four?” he asked. He hoped he didn’t sound as panicked to Snufkin as he sounded to himself. When Snufkin just nodded, he supposed he would have to bite the bullet. “Can you tell me about your Mamma?” 

“She’s amazing!” Snufkin said immediately. “People think she’s a bad Mamma, but she’s the best one in the world. She always distracts the others if I want to be on my own. And she makes the best soup ever,” he listed. “She’s really really tall, and she has orange hair and horns and the comfiest lap!”

The Joxter felt dizzy all of a sudden, and he was relieved he was sitting down. So fate had brought him one of his Mymble’s children. And there was no backing out of seeing her again – he had promised Snufkin, after all. Maybe that was a good thing! They never really got closure. It could be good for both of them. No matter how good it might be, though, it still made the Joxter nervous to think of seeing her again.

When Snufkin elbowed him in the side, he realised he had been sitting in silence for a bit too long. “She sounds nice,” was all he could muster up to say. 

It would probably have been a bit much to tell Snufkin that his mother was probably the love of his life and he’d been thinking about her nonstop for nearly three years but he was sure he’d messed things up irreparably with her.

Snufkin chatted about his family some more, but he was soon yawning. They put out the fire and hung the leftover flower crowns on a low branch for some other creatures to find and wear. 

By the time The Joxter had found a good-sized tree, Snufkin was half-asleep in his arms. He gazed down at him for a moment before carefully taking the back of his collar in his mouth. Snufkin didn't seem bothered by his new position, thank goodness, so the Joxter climbed  until he found a perfect branch for sleeping. He situated himself comfortably, and as per their new routine, Snufkin curled up against his stomach. It had only been a few nights, but now he couldn't quite imagine sleeping without the little boy snoring quietly.

He was usually quick to fall asleep, but tonight he couldn’t seem to clear his mind. Had it really been three years since he’d left the Mymble? He still felt guilt claw at his stomach when he thought about it too much. He had loved…in fact, he wasn’t kidding anybody. He still loved her, and he hadn’t even given her the courtesy of a proper conversation before running away. 

She would have moved on, though. She was the most beautiful creature to ever exist, and she had the world at her feet. She might have had more children. 

But when Joxter had been there, she had had thirty three children. Snufkin was the thirty fourth. He wasn’t sure exactly how old Snufkin was, but he can’t have been born long after the Joxter left. 

And that left him with…a thought. 

He jostled Snufkin very slightly, and made a displeased little noise before opening one eye to look up at the Joxter. “What?” 

“How old are you?” asked the Joxter, keeping his tone light and airy. 

Snufkin yawned widely, shuffling against the Joxter until he could tuck his head up snugly under his chin. “I’ll be three when autumn comes.” 

He was back to sleep again within seconds. 

The Joxter tried to keep his breathing even as he went through the numbers in his head. He had left the Mymble in late February. It made sense – she would have been pregnant through spring and summer, and given birth in autumn. 

He tried not to get his hopes up. She could have met someone else very quickly. Maybe this was his comeuppance for leaving her the way he had. He had never even wanted to be a father.

On the other hand, though. 

Snufkin was so like him. He liked peace and quiet, he liked wandering, he liked causing mischief. He looked like the Joxter, too. He supposed his features had been softened by his Mymble blood, but he had a similar tail, the same messy hair, and there was a certain sharpness to his canines that Mymbles certainly didn’t have. 

And despite the Joxter having no interest in fatherhood before, the past few days had changed that. He hadn’t thought it was possible to have such fun with a kid. Sure, the Mymble’s children had been fun in their way, but after a while he always needed to go and find a secluded spot to have some peace and quiet. He had spent the last few days alone with Snufkin, though, and he didn’t feel drained or overwhelmed or exhausted. He was sweet and funny, and cute, and…well, if they hadn’t been able to find his family, the Joxter certainly wouldn’t have minded keeping him around.

A week ago, if someone sprang a child on him and said he was a father, the Joxter would have balked. The thought of being Snufkin's father, though…he was excited (and terrified) to see the Mymble again, but that was nothing compared to the rushing, swooping feeling in his stomach when he thought about Snufkin being his actual son. He had expected to have to give him away and never see him again when they found his family, but maybe that wouldn't be the case.

He needed to sleep, as they had a long journey ahead of them, but he couldn’t keep himself from grinning, and there may or may not have been a few tears in his eyes. Most nights he kept his arms by his sides, ready to catch Snufkin if he rolled over and fell. Tonight, though, he wrapped them around Snufkin protectively, burying his nose in his hair. His  _ son’s _ hair.

Tomorrow they would set off to find the Mymble, and their first port of call would be the Moomin Valley. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is going to be 4 chapters long!! 5 at most. I've never been one for planning out a fic, but I know roughly what I want to do with this, and if there is a fifth chapter it will be more of an epilogue!!
> 
> Anyway…thank you for reading, ur all the best!!! Your comments on the last chapter were all so sweet, and I hope this one doesn't disappoint! <3


	3. Chapter 3

Moominpappa had been through a lot in his life. Living at the orphanage, sailing the seas on the Oshun Oxtra, and everything in between had set him up well for anything life could throw at him. 

Having a child was more tiring, more frightening, and more rewarding than any of them put together, though. 

He loved his little Moomintroll more than anything (except for Moominmamma, of course). He was curious and adventurous and funny and sweet, and he was almost certain they were raising him well. 

But there was always room for doubt. 

The house felt eerily quiet at the moment. A few days ago, they had had a visit from the Mymble and her veritable army of children. They had distinctly different styles of parenting: the Mymble was far more relaxed, letting her children please themselves, while Moominmamma and Moominpappa fussed over Moomintroll, making sure he wasn’t getting himself into any trouble. 

Moominmamma kept reassuring him that everyone had different experiences with parenting, and that each person’s style would suit their family, but Moominpappa still worried. 

Anyhow. The Mymble had said she was just dropping in, but she ended up asking them if they had seen one of her children anywhere after the flood. Moominpappa had been far too relieved to be reunited with his family to be looking out for other people’s children, but had promised her to be on the lookout. Moominmamma had done the same, and since the Mymble had left, they had spent the past few days ruminating on whether she would find the missing child.

Today, however, Moominpappa had resolved to be more like the Mymble. Moomintroll was playing in the garden while he relaxed on the verandah, a book propped open in his lap. It was a warm day. The perfect temperature for falling asleep outdoors, the lazy breeze tickling one’s fur. And that was just what he did. 

He had only intended to close his eyes for a minute, but when he opened them again, Moomintroll was nowhere to be seen. He cursed under his breath and went searching for him, looking everywhere he could think – under sizeable leaves, behind rocks, in the flowerbeds…no sign of his little Moomin. 

Moominpappa forced himself not to panic. He couldn’t have gone far. 

He cast a look around the garden, and spotted some muddy little paw prints going down the garden path, towards the forest. 

Right. It wasn’t ideal, but needs must. He followed the little paw prints, and crossed the makeshift bridge he kept saying he would replace, and entered the forest. He was sure he was imagining things, but was that…music? 

 

* * *

 

For such a tiny little thing, Snufkin could really hold a tune.

Snufkin had requested a song on the flute every day so far, and the Joxter was more than happy to oblige. He didn’t know very many songs, so before long, Snufkin was humming along to the ones he knew. 

It didn’t take long after that to teach him some lyrics, and by the time they were nearing the Moomin Valley, they made a pretty good double act.

Snufkin had also been improving on his flower-weaving skills. The Joxter got a new wreath of flowers to put on his hat every day, which was nice, and it seemed to please Snufkin to see him wearing his creations. 

The Joxter spent most of his time trying not to think about the fact that Snufkin might well be his actual son. He didn’t really want to tell Snufkin yet, in case it didn’t turn out to be true, but he hadn't been able to stop himself from being more affectionate with him in the past few days. 

One day, perhaps instinctually, he had tried to groom Snufkin’s hair, and Snufkin hadn’t liked it one little bit. He had spent the rest of the evening trying to intimidate the Joxter, baring his teeth and skittering back and forth, his tail bushy with annoyance. The Joxter might have been intimidated if he wasn’t so cute. 

Now the Joxter was strolling along and playing his flute while Snufkin followed behind him, swatting at his tail and singing along. It was his favourite song,  _ All Small Beasts Should have Bows in Their Tails. _ It always made him giggle to try and catch the Joxter’s tail as he sang it, and in the evenings, they would try to tie blades of grass around each other’s tails. 

The grass was too fragile and neither of them usually succeeded, but it was fun anyway. They usually just ended up in a giggling heap on the ground. 

Snufkin gave up on trying to catch the Joxter’s tail and skipped ahead, still singing happily. The Joxter watched him, a smile tugging at his lips. As much as he tried to avoid thinking about it, he did really hope that Snufkin was his son. He had grown quite attached to him. 

He was so lost in thought that he almost walked right into Snufkin when he stopped in his tracks. 

He lowered his flute and looked around to make sure there was nothing dangerous that might have scared Snufkin. “You okay?” he asked, then followed Snufkin’s gaze through the trees. There was a…well, it was unmistakably a tiny little Moomin, climbing carefully over a fallen log.

The Joxter pocketed his flute and took Snufkin’s hand, leading him through the trees. “Little Moomin?” he called tentatively. 

The creature in question slipped down from the log, startled by the sudden appearance of these strange people. “Who are you?” he asked immediately, standing up and brushing dirt from his round little body. 

“I’m Joxter, and this is Snufkin,” the Joxter said, gesturing towards little Snufkin. 

Snufkin seemed curious but a bit shy, standing behind the Joxter’s legs and peering around at the Moomin.

“We’re on our way to Moomin Valley. I imagine we’re going to see your parents,” the Joxter said, crouching down so that he wasn’t towering over the Moomin so much. “Are you supposed to be out here on your own?”

The little Moomin shook his head. “Pappa fell asleep,” he said, but he seemed distracted. He was staring at Snufkin, his head tilted to the side a bit. “Was someone playing music?” 

The Joxter nodded and patted his pocket. “We were. Do you want to hear?” 

The Moomin nodded eagerly, so the Joxter sat down, his legs crossed beneath himself. Snufkin sat himself quite comfortably in the Joxter’s lap, his tail twitching. The Joxter got his flute out once more and started playing, winking at Snufkin to encourage him as he started to sing nervously. 

The Moomin looked fascinated by the whole affair. He had leaned so far forward it looked like he should tip over, and his blue eyes were wide. He clapped for them when they were finished, and the Joxter was relieved that the music had been well received by their first ever audience. 

“When my pappa sings it doesn’t sound like that,” the Moomin said matter-of-factly, looking between Snufkin and the Joxter in awe. 

There was a crash from behind them, and a much bigger Moomin squeezed himself through the gap in the trees, though his belly made it difficult for him. “Are you trying to say I’m not a good singer, Moomintroll?” 

“Pappa!” cried the little Moomin, standing up and speeding over to his father, giggling all the while. 

Moominpappa swung his son into the air, holding him snugly under one arm. “You’re not to run away, alright? Even if I fall asleep on the verandah. Tell me if you want to go for a walk.” It took only another moment for Moominpappa to notice that they weren’t alone in the clearing. His eyes widened, and he nudged the Joxter’s hat back until he could see his face. 

“Hello, Moomin,” said the Joxter, gazing up at his old friend.

“What on earth are you doing here?” Moominpappa asked, offering his paw to help him up. “Did you get washed up in the flood or something?” 

The Joxter held Snufkin under one arm and took Moominpappa’s paw to pull himself to his feet. “We were actually on our way to see you,” he said, glancing down at Snufkin who was paying him no attention – he and the little Moomin had caught each other’s eyes and seemed to be having a staring contest. 

This was the first time Moominpappa had noticed Snufkin. He stared for a moment, then a smile grew on his face and he thumped the Joxter on the shoulder. “I didn’t know you had a child! Congratulations. He looks so like you,” he said jovially. 

The Joxter tried to shush him before he could complete the sentence, but of course, now Snufkin was staring up at him with huge brown eyes.

“Are you my dad?” he asked, wonder in his voice. 

This was exactly what the Joxter had wanted to avoid. He thought Snufkin was a delight, and he was pretty sure Snufkin liked him too, so he would feel awful if he ended up disappointing him by not being his dad. Or, even worse, by being his dad and being a bad dad.

“Have I said something wrong?” Moominpappa asked, shifting his weight from paw to paw. 

The Joxter waved a paw and shook his head. “It’s fine. But can we have a minute to talk?” he asked. 

Moominpappa seemed more than happy to oblige. He turned and made his way back towards the Moominhouse, chatting away to the little Moomin. Which left the Joxter alone with Snufkin.

Rather than wander around aimlessly, he took the scruff of Snufkin’s neck between his teeth and climbed a tree, making himself comfortable on a wide branch and letting Snufkin settle in front of him. “So we should probably talk about that,” he said, adjusting his hat atop his head. He didn’t want to make eye contact, but he forced himself to – Snufkin deserved that at the very least. 

“Are you my dad?” Snufkin asked again. No beating around the bush, then. 

The Joxter took a moment to consider his answer. He’d wondered a lot in the past few days about what he’d say to Snufkin, how he would tell him, but he knew he couldn’t lie. “I think so,” he said carefully. He didn’t know how Snufkin would react, so he continued quickly. “I’m not completely sure. But it’s likely. I used to be with your mamma, and the timing fits for your age.” 

Snufkin’s face was unreadable. “I look like you. And I act more like you than my mamma or my brothers and sisters,” he said thoughtfully. “Did you know all the time?” 

“Only after you told me about your family,” said the Joxter, letting his legs dangle on either side of the branch. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just wasn’t sure, and I didn’t want to tell you if I wasn't right.”

“Would you be disappointed if you were my dad?” Snufkin asked, a furrow between his eyebrows. 

“Disappointed?” the Joxter echoed. He didn’t know how Snufkin could possibly think that, so he reached over to ruffle his hair. “No! Never, Snufkin,” he said but Snufkin was looking down now, and he was still frowning. The Joxter reached over to cup his face in his paws, forcing him to make eye contact. “I never thought I would be a dad, but I’d be so proud to call you my son, Snufkin.”

Snufkin remained motionless for a moment, but then he moved the Joxter’s paws away from his face. For a moment, the Joxter feared the worst – maybe he’d said the wrong thing, or Snufkin simply didn’t want him as a father and wanted to be as far from him as possible.

But then Snufkin sprang forward and wrapped his arms tight around his neck. The Joxter caught him easily, hugging him tight to his chest and burying his nose in his hair. Snufkin was warm and soft and when the Joxter squeezed him, he squealed and laughed, so of course the Joxter couldn’t resist tickling him until he was just a giggling mess, his tail quivering. 

Snufkin kept giggling to himself as he caught his breath, leaning against the Joxter’s chest. Eventually he leaned back enough to look at his face, and reached up with one paw to poke the tip of the Joxter’s nose. “I would be happy If you’re my dad.”

The Joxter scrunched up his nose and tried to ignore the way his heart seized. God, he really was becoming soft. “You would?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. 

Snufkin nodded eagerly. “Yes! I like you. And if you’re my dad, it makes me feel better that I’m not really like my mamma or my brothers and sisters,” he explained. 

He looked a bit downcast as he said it, picking at a patch of bark on the tree. The Joxter leaned in close to him, the tip of his nose very nearly touching Snufkin’s hair. “Well, I happen to know a lot about your mamma and your siblings. And I have a secret to tell you,” he whispered. 

Snufkin looked up, nearly headbutting the Joxter in his excitement. “What is it?” 

“I loved your mamma very much, and your siblings are fun…” the Joxter said slowly. He paused, and made a show of checking that nobody was listening. He looked around a few times, looked up, and looked down. Only when he was satisfied that they were alone, he continued, “but you’re definitely my favourite,” he finished, smiling brightly and tapping his fingertip against Snufkin’s nose. 

Snufkin laughed brightly and stood up, leaning in until he could whisper right into the Joxter’s ear. “Do you still love my mamma? Even though you're not together?” he asked, then looked at him expectantly. 

And, god, the Joxter couldn’t lie to his sweet little face. “I do,” he said before he even had time to think about it. And he really did love the Mymble, whether he liked it or not. “If we want to find her, we should go and talk to the Moomins, alright?” 

Snufkin agreed, and let the Joxter carry him back down to ground level. When they were back on level ground, Snufkin trotted along beside the Joxter, humming to himself. “How can the moomins help us find mamma?” he asked after a moment. 

The Joxter shrugged. “Things just have a way of working out in the Moomin Valley,” he said. When they rounded the next corner, the Moominhouse came into view, and it felt like things might just work out.

 

* * *

 

 

Snufkin had an awful lot of thoughts rolling around in his head. 

So the Joxter was his dad. Maybe. Probably. 

It made sense! They were so alike, and Snufkin had felt so comfortable with him so quickly, which was unusual when he met strangers. It still felt strange, but he was excited to find his mamma again. 

The Joxter was chatting with the big Moomin in the top hat, their voices hushed. The other big Moomin was in the kitchen, and there were delicious smells coming from that direction, so Snufkin went to see her. Maybe if he was lucky he’d get a little scrap of food! 

In the kitchen, though, he encountered the smallest Moomin. He was about the same size as Snufkin, but he was a bit rounder, and he was watching him with big blue eyes. “Do you like pancakes?” he asked. 

Snufkin was surprised by the question, but he nodded. 

“Mamma!” the little Moomin called, and as if she had been waiting for the call, his Mamma came to crouch beside him. 

“What is it, my darling?” she asked, leaning down and rubbing her snout against the top of his head. She turned to Snufkin after a moment, and smoothed down his hair as best she could. Her paw felt like velvet atop his head. “You can call me Moominmamma, sweetheart. It's so lovely to have you here.”

Snufkin felt a bit like he’d been thrust into the spotlight with both Moomins’ eyes on him. “I’m Snufkin,” he said. “Thank you for…” he trailed off. His own mamma had taught him about manners, but he had never been to someone else’s house by himself, and he couldn’t remember what he was supposed to say. 

Thankfully, Moominmamma just chuckled, but it didn’t make him feel embarrassed or like he’d done anything wrong. “Would you like some pancakes? I was just making some for Moomintroll.”

Snufkin nodded eagerly, and Moominmamma returned to the cooker, assuring him that they wouldn’t take long. 

And that left Snufkin with Moomintroll. 

The only people near his own age he’d spent time with were his siblings, and Moomintroll didn’t seem to be anything like them. He seemed shy – he was a bit pink around the ears, and even though he was obviously looking at Snufkin, he didn’t seem to want to be caught doing it.

“Do you have siblings?” Snufkin asked, sitting himself on the floor beside Moomintroll. 

Moomintroll just shook his head. “Do you?” 

Snufkin nodded. “Thirty three of them.”

Recognition dawned on Moomintroll’s face. “Your mamma is the Mymble? She was here last week! You’re not as scary as her other children.”

That made Snufkin laugh. “They’re not scary!” he insisted. “Well. Sometimes they are. But they’re nice, really,” he added after a pause. “I can’t imagine not having siblings.”

“It can be boring sometimes. But it’s fun when we get visitors,” Moomintroll said with a shrug. They were quiet for a few moments, then Moomintroll looked up, his head tilted to the side. “Do you like games?”

 

* * *

 

 

For the rest of the afternoon, the house was filled with the sounds of Snufkin and Moomintroll playing together, dashing around and squealing and giggling. 

It was sweet and, in all honesty, it soothed the Joxter’s nerves. Being with the Moomins was enough to calm him down, anyway. Moominpappa talked a big game, and that made him feel nostalgic, but Moominmamma had such a calm, self-assured nature that he had no choice but to relax around her. 

It probably also helped that there was a near-constant stream of delicious snacks. 

He had talked the Moomins through the situation with Snufkin and the Mymble. It was embarrassing, and having their eyes on him made his fur prickle, but he knew they weren’t judging him. And they had insisted time and time again that the Mymble wouldn’t hate him for leaving the way he had. 

He had also learned that the Mymble had been right here only a few days ago. So, as much as he wanted to stick around and spend time with the Moomins, he resolved to set off as soon as possible and catch up with her. 

A few more pancakes couldn’t hurt, though. 

It was nice to see Snufkin having so much fun, too. He had fun with the Joxter, too, but it was more fun for him to play with someone his own age. Plus, it was probably easier for him to stop thinking about the Mymble when he had Moomintroll to play with. 

The Joxter had planned to leave before night fell, but by the time they had finished reminiscing, the sun was already dipping below the horizon. While he knew the Moomin Valley was one of the safest places they could be, he would rather not travel at night when he had Snufkin to look after. He didn’t know what he’d do if any harm came to him. 

“Does that mean it’s like a sleepover?” Moomintroll asked when he learned that Snufkin and the Joxter were staying. “Can Snufkin be in my room?” 

“As long as you don’t keep each other up with all that giggling,” Moominpappa said, patting Moomintroll’s head. “Snufkin’s got a busy day tomorrow!”

Snufkin sidled over to the Joxter, who was curled up in the corner of the sofa. “How long do you think it will take us to find mamma now?” he asked, clambering up to sit beside him. 

The Joxter wrapped an arm around him, squeezing him tight. “Not very long. If we’re really fast, I’d say we can find her in a couple of days,” he said. “Since it’s just the two of us, I imagine we can go a lot faster than her and all her kids.” 

Snufkin nodded eagerly. “She stops to make sure they're all still with her! And we don’t have to do that since it's only two of us,” he said, twisting around to sit very nearly in the Joxter’s lap. “And she takes longer to cook for all of them, because some of them are fussy. We just have fish and stuff!” 

The Joxter chuckled and ruffled his hair. “You’re right. We’ll catch up easily. And she’ll be so excited to have her little Snufkin back.”

“And she’ll be excited to see you!” Snufkin said eagerly. 

The Joxter wasn’t so sure, but he hummed and patted Snufkin’s cheek. “I hope you sleep well tonight, my little wildling. In a proper bed instead of a tree!” he teased, pinching his cheek playfully after a moment.

Snufkin giggled and nodded. “Where will you sleep?” 

“Here?” the Joxter said with a shrug, patting the sofa. “Don’t you worry about me. I can sleep just about anywhere,” he promised. He seemed comfortable, but he kept looking over to the doorway where Moomintroll kept beckoning to him. "Go and see Moomintroll, okay? Make the most of it. It's nice to have a new friend."

“Okay! I’ll see you in the morning!” Snufkin ran after Moomintroll, both of them whispering to each other as they sped up the stairs.

With the children in bed, Moominpappa got out one of his best bottles of whisky and poured three glasses, and they spent the rest of the evening enjoying each other’s company. The Moomins did most of the talking, but that was how the Joxter preferred things, anyway.

 

* * *

 

The Joxter and Snufkin set off early the next morning, determined to make the most of the day. 

As it turned out, neither of them had slept very much. The Joxter because he had been thinking constantly about the Mymble, and Snufkin because he and Moomintroll had been up half the night, whispering and laughing. 

They both spent the morning yawning over their breakfast – which was delicious, like everything Moominmamma made. 

When the time came to leave, the Joxter gave Moominmamma and Moominpappa each a big hug, and patted Moomintroll’s head. Moomintroll, however, was paying him no attention – he and Snufkin were hugging each other tight, and they didn’t seem like they had any plans to let go. 

“Promise you’ll come and visit?” Moomintroll asked when they eventually did separate. 

Snufkin nodded eagerly, and he was about to reply when he paused and looked up at the Joxter. “Please can we come and visit again, daddy?” 

The Joxter had been prepared to say yes, that they could visit whenever Snufkin wanted, but he hadn’t been prepared at all to be called daddy, and he couldn’t stop himself from grinning. He leaned down to kiss the top of Snufkin’s head, and nodded. “We can visit. Whenever you want. You just have to ask,” he said. His face hurt a bit from smiling so widely, but he couldn’t stop, even if he wanted to. Even when he caught the Moomins giving him knowing smiles.

Moominpappa had hoisted his son up into his arms now, and they all waved to Snufkin and the Joxter as they left. 

The Joxter let Snufkin climb up to sit on his shoulders, taking his hat off to put it on Snufkin’s head so he could see what was in front of them. 

He was already picking up the Mymble’s scent, so finding her shouldn’t be too much of a challenge. But now he had limited time to prepare himself for coming face to face with her again. 

With any luck, even if things didn't go well between him and the Mymble would still have Snufkin. He pulled out his flute and pieced it together, patting Snufkin’s knee before he started to play and his son sang along. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! Sorry for the slow update, this chapter took a long time to figure out…I think I'm happy with how it turned out, though. And I'm super excited for the next chapter!! Apologies in advance, it might be a long time before it's out – I'm going to be away from home next week, and it's going to be a long one! 
> 
> Anyway!! Thank you so much for your kind comments, and thank you especially to tumblr user trenchcoatofthelord for sending me some incredible art based on this fic, it made me cry!!!!!! Thank you for reading, and thank you for the comments and kudos and everything!! It all means the world to me!


	4. Chapter 4

The Mymble was sure she’d never felt like this. 

She knew she was a good parent. People often looked down their noses at her, judging her and making assumptions and calling her names, but she didn’t listen. She loved her children dearly, and her children loved her, and that was all that mattered. 

The flood had been a total nightmare. It was hard enough corralling thirty four children on a normal day, let alone when there was an ocean flowing through the forest all of a sudden. 

All the children had managed to hang on to her and each other, apart from one. Her youngest, but not smallest, child. 

Snufkin was so unlike her other children, and she supposed it made sense – his father was unlike anyone she’d ever met, too. Snufkin was a quiet boy. He always had been. He preferred to go and sit somewhere quiet while the other children played some loud game. 

The Mymble didn’t mind. As long as he didn’t stray too far, she would let him wander around and smell flowers and pick berries and chase birds. He always looked so happy to explore, and he always came back for a cuddle in the evening, and he always thanked her for letting him wander around like that. 

It was solace, at least, that Snufkin was so used to wandering alone. She was certain he would be able to look after himself in the forest, and surely some friendly creature would look after him in the aftermath of the flood. 

Still, with every passing day, worry weighed a bit more heavily in her stomach. 

It had started when she had returned to their house and found only rubble. She had waited for Snufkin there for a short while, but the children were restless, and there was no telling how far he might have been carried in the water. She reasoned that somebody would have seen him, though, so she would go after him. 

She had asked everyone they met along the way. Some had been apologetic, some indifferent, and some downright judgmental. The Moomins hadn’t seen him, which was disappointing. She had had a good feeling about going there. 

She had to stay positive for the other children, though. Every day she still tied her hair up in a bun, and she sang songs with the children, and took part in their games as best she could. She was distracted, though, and they could tell. They helped in their own way – thirty three extra pairs of eyes were an awful lot of help for the search. 

Her eldest daughter had been a godsend. She always liked helping out, but the Mymble had never fully appreciated how good she was at taking care of her siblings until now. 

The Mymble was happy to be alone with her children, but in particularly wistful moments she remembered the old days. Right now, for example, they were passing a field which was practically overflowing with berries. The Joxter would have jumped the fence in an instant and eaten as many as he could fit in his mouth. If the farmer came to shout at him, he would have stuffed his hat full of fruit and run as fast as his legs would carry him. 

She understood why he had left, but she still missed him every now and again. She just wished she’d had a chance to tell him about Snufkin. It might not have made him stay, and she wouldn’t want it to: if he needed space, he needed space. But he deserved to know. 

Still. If their paths were meant to cross again, they would. She was certain of that. For now she had to focus on finding Snufkin. 

 

* * *

 

 

Despite his prior nerves, the Joxter was glad that Snufkin knew he was his dad. He seemed happier, almost, and far less reluctant to be affectionate with the Joxter. 

They spent less time messing around now, though. Every day, they got closer to the Mymble, and it became easier to track her scent. Snufkin was learning how to do that, and he liked to follow in the tracks of his siblings where they had been a few days earlier. 

It was still fun, though. And the Joxter was focussed enough on the search that he didn’t have quite enough room in his head to worry about how she would react to seeing him or anything like that. 

Fish were harder to come by in this neck of the woods. No fish were biting, and the further they went, the less edible plants they found. The Joxter was eager to avoid shops and spending money, but he couldn’t put it off when he heard Snufkin’s tummy rumbling one day. The boy had insisted that it was fine, and they could keep going, but the Joxter wouldn't let it stand.  

They slipped into a little shop. When the Joxter saw the shopkeeper, he was almost certain he’d been here before – she had been very kind to him once upon a time, giving him food despite him being unable to afford it. 

Snufkin stood on tiptoes to look at all the food, and the shopkeeper bustled over to offer him some free samples. 

The Joxter scanned the shop to find food they could carry with them, and food that would keep them full for longer without stopping. That’s when he came across the hat. 

It was just like his own, but this one was bright green. He thought it would go beautifully with Snufkin’s brown hair and hazel eyes, and he didn’t care how much it cost – he had to buy it. 

He gathered enough food for the next day or so, and the hat, laying them out on the counter. He dug through his pockets until he found his wallet, counting through his money. It wasn’t much, but hopefully it would cover enough. 

The shopkeeper returned to the counter, and looked over his items. “How much have you got, dear?” 

The Joxter checked again, just to make sure. “I’ve got 7.8.” 

The shopkeeper hummed, rearranging all the items. “Lucky for you, I’ve got a discount today. All of this will be 7!” she said brightly. 

The Joxter hesitated. “Are you sure?” he asked. It seemed like it should cost considerably more. 

She leaned in close so that she could whisper, “is that your son?” The Joxter nodded, and she pushed the hat towards him with a smile. “This has been sitting in the shop for ages. And it would go so nicely with yours,” she said. “It only seems right that you should have it.”

“It’s very kind of you,” the Joxter said. He wasn’t sure what else he could say – he didn’t typically trust strangers like this. There was usually a catch, but she had done him a kindness before. 

“Just make sure to look after that boy of yours,” she said. 

Snufkin was still chewing on some kind of dried fruit, smiling to himself, so the Joxter rolled up the hat and tucked it snugly into one of his larger pockets. “Thank you,” the Joxter said once more before ruffling Snufkin’s hair and guiding him out of the shop. 

It was dusk. As much as they both wanted to keep going, it was sensible to stop here – there was a little stream for them to wash their paws, and a good thick tree to sleep in. While Snufkin paddled in the river, the Joxter gathered some flowers to weave into a little crown. The least he could do was to pay Snufkin back for all the lovely flower crowns he’d made over the past week or so. 

“Can you come here, my wee kitten?” the Joxter called, sitting up straight and hiding the flower crown behind his back. 

Snufkin clambered out of the river and shook some of the water off his legs, scrunching up his nose. “Is everything okay?” he asked as he came to sit cross-legged in front of the Joxter. 

“Everything’s fine. But I have a present for you,” he said, winking. “Close your eyes, alright?” 

Snufkin did as he was told, and to make sure, the Joxter waved a paw in front of his eyes a couple of times, and made a silly face at him. There was no reaction, so he thought he was safe. He took the rolled-up hat from his pocket, smoothed it out as best he could, then draped the flower crown around the brim. He hoped Snufkin liked it, but it was too late for doubts now. He popped it on his head and straightened it. 

God, he really did look adorable. 

“Open your eyes,” the Joxter said, tapping the end of his nose gently. 

“Your hat?” Snufkin asked, but then he opened his eyes and saw that the Joxter was still wearing his hat. His eyes widened a fraction and he scooted on his bum over to the river’s edge to look at his reflection. “A hat for me?” he asked excitedly, whirling around to face him. 

The Joxter nodded, his heart just about melting at the sight of Snufkin smiling like that. “I saw it in the shop and couldn’t resist it,” he explained. “You look adorable.”

Snufkin skipped over and threw himself at the Joxter, throwing his arms around his neck. “I look like you now!” he said brightly. They nearly knocked each other’s hats off a couple of times, but they fell into place before long. 

“You already looked like me, Snufkin,” the Joxter said fondly, rubbing his back. “But come on. We should try and get some sleep before tomorrow. Hopefully we’ll find your mamma, alright?”  

Snufkin nodded eagerly, and the hat slipped down over his eyes. “I hope so,” he agreed. They climbed the tree, and had just about enough time to watch the sunset from the higher branches. The sky was a beautiful mix of blues and pinks and oranges, and the Joxter couldn’t help thinking that the Mymble was down there somewhere, probably looking up at that same sky. 

 

* * *

 

The next day dawned bright and warm. 

The Joxter had underestimated how much food they would need, and they had eaten most of it last night. They still had some for the morning, but both of them were still a bit hungry when they set off on the Mymble’s trail. 

For a while, it was bearable, but before the sun had even reached its highest point in the sky, they were both flagging. 

“Maybe we could try and catch some fish,” Snufkin suggested. He was shuffling along beside the Joxter, and he’d found a good-sized stick to use as a cane. 

The Joxter scrunched up his nose. “I don’t really think we’ll have much luck in this area,” he said thoughtfully. He lifted his hat to run his claws through his hair. It was sweaty, and starting to stick to his head. He shook it out before replacing his hat, but then something caught his eye. 

A field. 

A field surrounded by high fences and ‘KEEP OUT’ signs. 

It seemed like the perfect time to teach his son a valuable lesson. “Hey, Snufkin,” he said, scooping his son up into his arms and pointing towards the field. “There’s food in there.” 

Snufkin stared over at it for a moment before speaking. “Says keep out.”

The Joxter walked closer to the fence so that they could each peer between the gaps. “Do you think anyone could really eat all of that?” 

“Well…no,” Snufkin said. “But there’s a fence.”

“We climb big trees all the time, you think a fence can stop us?” the Joxter asked. He didn’t need to take the scruff of Snufkin’s neck in his mouth to climb a fence – he one-handed it, easily swinging himself over the top. Once they were over the side, they were surrounded by countless fruit bushes. Strawberries, blackberries, raspberries…it was like paradise. 

“Take whatever you want, my dear,” the Joxter said, putting Snufkin on the ground. All his previous doubts forgotten, he got started on the berries, humming happily to himself. 

The Joxter did the same, but he had other things to think about – when he had had his fill of fruit, he stretched up to tear down some of the signs. 

“Why do you do that?” Snufkin asked. He couldn’t reach most of the signs, so he just watched the Joxter, continuing to gather berries. 

“It’s just a bit of fun, really,” the Joxter said, leaving the signs in a heap on the floor. “And it’s like a protest. Saying that I don’t agree with all this land belonging to one person.” 

“All of this?” Snufkin asked, frowning. When the Joxter nodded, he made a face. “But we can go anywhere in the forest. Why not here?” 

The Joxter shrugged. “That’s what I always ask,” he said. He was about to continue, when there was a shout. 

“Hey! What are you two doing?” 

It was an old man. He had a thick moustache, and he was shaking his fist at them. “Get out! This is private property!” 

The Joxter laughed loudly. “What are you going to do? Catch us?” 

The old man started running and, oh god, he was a lot faster than he looked. The Joxter grabbed Snufkin and climbed the fence as quickly as he could, but it was more difficult now – some of the wooden slats had come off when he was removing the signs. 

He fumbled a couple of times, and he felt the old man try to grab his tail, but he threw himself over the fence and started running. He held Snufkin tight in his arms, his heart pounding. 

Snufkin had looked afraid at first, but now he was peering over the Joxter’s shoulder, presumably watching the man. 

“Is he close behind us?” the Joxter asked. 

“No, he’s…” Snufkin began, then he smacked his shoulder a couple of times. “Go faster!” 

The Joxter didn’t know if he could run any faster. 

On one side was the field, but on his other side was rapidly-thickening forest. He dashed into the trees. The old man was fast, but he doubted he was as agile as the Joxter. 

He wasn’t familiar with this part of the forest, but he just kept running. He could still hear the old man thundering along behind him. Snufkin shook in his arms, and for a moment, the Joxter worried he was scared enough to be crying. When he glanced down, though, he was laughing. 

He was holding onto his hat with one hand, clinging to the Joxter’s sleeve with the other, and he looked totally delighted. And the Joxter couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

He couldn’t run so fast when he was laughing like this, but he didn’t care – he loved Snufkin, and he had never thought he could feel this giddy and excited and  _ happy _ .

It felt like he might fall over at any moment, but he just held Snufkin tighter and kept running. He obviously wasn’t looking ahead enough, though, because next time he looked up, there was an obstacle in their path. Something big, and tall, and…wearing a striped red jacket.

“Mymble!” the Joxter shouted, and she turned around just in time for them to crash into her. 

She was barely swayed by the impact – she took the Joxter’s shoulders, and he already wanted to kiss her. “Why are you…” she began, then she noticed Snufkin beaming up at her in the Joxter’s arms, and her eyes widened. Then she caught sight of the old man running through the trees, and she unbuttoned her coat, holding it open. “Get under here.”

She used that tone of voice that left no room for argument. The Joxter stepped close to her, and she draped her coat over him. Snufkin clung to him, giggling to himself, and the Joxter held a finger to his lips – he was sure it was obvious that they were hiding under here, but he trusted the Mymble. 

“Let me see those fugitives,” said a booming voice. 

“What fugitives?” the Mymble asked, her voice as sweet as honey. 

“The ones under your coat,” the old man said. 

The Mymble didn’t move an inch. “I’m pregnant,” she said, patting the Joxter’s shoulder through her coat. “Very overdue, you see.”

The old man spluttered. “So you mean to tell me you have two pairs of feet?” 

“You don’t ask a pregnant woman a question like that,” the Mymble said threateningly. “I’d watch your tone if I were you. And I certainly wouldn’t chase innocent little children through the forest, nor would I be so disrespectful to a pregnant woman.” 

The old man tried to speak a couple more times, but the Joxter could imagine the exact expression on the Mymble’s face. Her chin lifted just a touch, eyebrows raised, and using her height to its fullest. He almost wished he were the old man. 

He heard some stomping footsteps moving away from them, though, and after a few moments, the Mymble lifted her coat again. 

The Joxter stepped out, and he had no idea what to say. As it turned out, though, he didn’t really need to say anything – Snufkin leaned towards her, arms outstretched. “Mamma! I missed you,” he said. 

The Mymble visibly melted. She took him from the Joxter, hugging him tight and pressing a few kisses to his little face. He looked even tinier next to the Mymble, and the Joxter was sure he might have to lean against a tree to even stay upright. 

“I was so worried about you, my darling,” the Mymble said, adjusting his hat so that she could see his face. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over the place for you.” 

“We were looking for you, mamma,” Snufkin said as he climbed over to give the Mymble a proper hug, his little paw tangled in the furry collar of her coat. “Daddy was helping!” 

The Mymble laughed, and held Snufkin easily in one arm, but now she was gazing over at the Joxter with soft eyes. “How sweet of daddy,” she said, extending her free paw towards him. 

The Joxter was sure his heart skipped a beat. God, he didn’t know how he’d ever left her. He took her paw, and she pulled him closer with a chuckle. “I would have been far less worried if I knew you were safe and sound with him.” 

The Joxter squeezed her paw tight and gazed up at her, his heart pounding. She was somehow even more beautiful than he remembered, and that was saying something – in his mind’s eye, she was like a goddess, and she was even better in real life. He must be the luckiest creature in the world.

The Joxter took a deep breath. Things like apologies had never been his strong suit, but he needed to say something. “I hope you know I never would have left if I had–” 

The Mymble let go of his paw to cover his mouth for a brief moment. “Hush. I know,” she said softly, and wrapped her arm around his shoulders. “We’ll talk later, dearest. I’m just glad to see you. And even gladder that you’ve met our  Snufkin,” she said, jostling the little Mumrik to make him squeal. 

As they walked through the forest, it almost felt like no time had passed at all. The one difference was that they had a son. 

Said son was filling the Mymble in on everything they’d been doing. From the flood, to the house being in ruins, to his new friend Moomintroll, to the horrible farmer, and everything in between. The Mymble listened intently, humming and oohing at all the appropriate moments, and occasionally glancing down at the Joxter with fond smiles and raised eyebrows. 

They soon reached the clearing where the eldest of the Mymble’s children was making sure that all the others were clothed and washed and fed. When they saw Snufkin and the Joxter, though, they all abandoned their posts. 

They crowded the three of them, piling on top of each other to greet their little brother and…their mother’s boyfriend? Their sometimes-stepfather? Whatever the Joxter was to them. No matter what he was, he was extremely happy to see them. He hadn’t quite realised how much he’d missed the little ragamuffins. 

The children didn’t weigh much, but there were a lot of them, and before long they brought the Joxter to the ground. He was happy to stay there for a while, but just as it was starting to get a bit much, a pair of paws slid under his armpits and scooped him up to his feet. 

His darling Mymble. She always knew him so well. Maybe even better than he knew himself. 

The children were still crowded around Snufkin, listening to a heavily-embellished retelling of his adventure (for such a shy little thing, he seemed to enjoy having their attention for once). 

The Joxter wound his arms around the Mymble, resting his head against her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, chancing only the briefest glance at her face.

She was smiling at him. Not the usual grin she gave strangers, nor the smile she used on the children. It was something far softer – something reserved only for the Joxter. “I know,” she said, tipping his hat back to press a kiss to the top of his head. 

They had a lot of talking to do, and it surely wouldn’t be easy, but the Joxter didn’t plan on leaving. For as long as the Mymble would have him, he was hers. 

He never thought he’d be happy to settle down with anyone, but here, in the Mymble’s arms, watching their son…well, it felt like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S BEEN 84 YEARS…………
> 
> So sorry for the wait!!! I went away with my parents, then I got a job, and it's been busy busy busy! All that time, this chapter has been sitting 90% completed, but I couldn't work out how to finish it. I'm STILL not sure about the ending, it feels like a cop-out, but I really hope you don't hate it at least!!
> 
> Again, so sorry for the delay in getting this last chapter posted, but it's been such a pleasure reading all your lovely comments!! It really brightens my day to scroll through them! 
> 
> Might write a little epilogue for this, but who knows? We'll all just have to wait and see!!

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't done a multichapter fic in years!! i'll try to keep a fairly regular update schedule – i have fallen hard and fast for this weird lil family, so I have lots of thoughts, and I have lots of time! 
> 
> thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it!! I should have the second chapter up within the next week or so, but in the meantime, please feel free to chat about my favourite weirdo cat men with me! （ΦωΦ）


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